


Romance is Where You Find It

by Mertiya



Series: RvB Prompt Wars [3]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Dates, Fluff, Graduate School, Kid Fic, M/M, Prompt Fic, RvB Fluff Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 00:19:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6261655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertiya/pseuds/Mertiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No first date would be complete without a panicking babysitter to completely ruin any semblance of a moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Romance is Where You Find It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hinn_Raven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hinn_Raven/gifts).



> Written for RvB fluff week for the prompt: "Tuckington first date shenanigans?" 
> 
>  

 

            Wash fiddled nervously with his menu. He was pretty sure he was early. Probably. And Tucker was the kind of person he’d expect to show up either right on time or a few minutes late. But he still couldn’t quash the niggling little thought in the back of his mind that the other man had only asked him out as a joke. Not to mention the whole host of other worries he was busily trying to suppress. Maine had walked out on him in a similar restaurant, along with the rest of his old lab, after he’d tried to explain to them why he’d gone to the dean.

            Shutting his eyes, he breathed in, breathed out, listened to the tinny pop music playing from the speakers above his head. Didn’t think. He was safe here. He had a lab again. He had a shot at finishing his thesis. He hadn’t even died of hydrofluoric acid exposure, which was a definite plus.

            A hand dropped onto his head, and he jerked upright. “Whoa, sorry, man,” Tucker said, sliding into the booth across from him. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” He grinned at Wash, and Wash couldn’t suppress an answering grin. “I’d have put my hand on your shoulder, but I wasn’t sure—”

            “Yeah, I appreciate that. It’s been healing up well, though.” Mostly, the remnant of a burn was maddeningly itchy at this point.

            “I still can’t believe you fucking did that.”

            “You say that every time it comes up. I’m beginning to think you don’t have a very high opinion of me.” Wash pushed his eyebrows up, trying to indicate that he was joking, but the words came out rawer than he intended.

            “Dude, it’s a good thing. You’re a fucking hero. Caboose would be dead if it wasn’t for you.”

            “I doubt it,” Wash said. “Maybe sicker.”

            “Yeah, well, anyway. Sorry.” Tucker scratched nervously at his head. “Uh, heavy conversation for a first date. Sorry dude.”

            They lapsed into an awkward silence. Wash wondered if he should have a beer. Two nights ago, the evening that Tucker had asked him out, they hadn’t been awkward. Well, Tucker hadn’t, anyway. Wash hadn’t been expecting either the question or the sudden, excited kiss he got when he finally stammered out a “sure, okay.” But they’d still fallen asleep together in the grad student lounge, while _The Road to El Dorado_ continued playing in the background.

            “Um, would you like to see my—”

            “Can I get you guys anything to drink?” Wash shut his mouth. Of course the waiter showed up as soon as he’d actually thought of a topic of conversation.

            “I’ll just have a coke,” Tucker said.

            “Is pepsi okay?”

            “Yeah, sure.”

            “And for you?” The waiter looked at Wash, who stared down at his menu.

            “I’ll just have water, thanks.”

            “I’ll get those right in for you.”

            God. He was so bad at this. When was the last time he’d been out on a date anyway? Sometime in undergrad?

            “What were you gonna say?”

            “Huh?”

            “Before we got interrupted. You were gonna say something.”

            “Oh, um.” Wash fingered the iphone in his pocket. “Would you like to see pictures of my cat?”

            Tucker’s brown eyes caught his, and Wash’s breath caught in his throat. “I—” Tucker started, and then the loud _ping_ of a received text message cut the air between them. “Shit, sorry, I should check that.”

            “Sure,” Wash said awkwardly. “Go ahead.”

            Tucker pulled out his own phone and stared at it. “Ah, fuck,” he said. “Crap. Shit. I—balls.”

            “Would you like suggestions for your next curse?” Wash asked mildly, suddenly amused. “What’s wrong?”

            Tucker sighed and pushed the phone across the table. “My kid’s sick.”

           

           

 

            “Asshole?” Wash queried. Then, after a pause, “‘Alien baby’?”

            “Church,” Tucker clarified. “And, uh, my kid had a weird-shaped head when he was a baby, plus I didn’t really know his mom, so Church said I’d been impregnated by an alien. It kinda stuck.”

            “You—didn’t know his mother?” Wash repeated, slightly confused. “Is he adopted?”

            “Nope,” said Tucker airily. “I was reeeeaaaaalllly drunk and she didn’t bother to tell me she was pregnant until nine months later when she dumped a small child on my doorstep and demanded a paternity test. Anyways, I—should probably go home and make sure that my entire apartment isn’t coated in vomit. God, Church is a fucking useless babysitter.” He glanced up at Wash, and Wash caught the sudden flash of nervousness.

            “It’s okay,” he said. “I don’t mind. Well, not much. I don’t blame you, anyway. We can do this another time.”

            “Thanks, man.” Still, Tucker didn’t sound happy, and Wash couldn’t blame him. This was not the best way to end their first date.

            “How did you get here?” he asked suddenly.

            “Huh? I took the bus.”

            “I could give you a lift home.”

            There was a pause, and then Tucker grinned. “Thanks, man. I forgot you have a car.”

            Wash flagged down the waiter to explain that they had to leave quickly, then turned back to Tucker. “No problem. Where do you live?”

            Grabbing his jacket, Tucker slid out of his seat. “Honeywood Apartment Complex. It’s family and—”

            “—graduate housing,” Wash finished, putting a hand to his forehead. “Oh my god. Really?”

            Tucker stared at him.            “Wait, do you live there too?”

            Laughing, Wash nodded. “I guess I could have given you a ride _to_ the restaurant as well.”

            “I got something else you can ride, if you know what I mean.” Tucker waggled his eyebrows expressively, and Wash had to laugh.

            “Come on, let’s get you back to your alien baby.”

~

            “I live in building 3,” Tucker said as they drew into the parking lot, and Wash nearly braked in surprise.

            “Wait, we live in the same building?” he blurted. “How the hell have we never run into each other going in and out?”

            “Uh,” said Tucker. “What? I—don’t know. That’s really weird.”

            Wash thought about this for a moment. “You…don’t happen to live in apartment 117, do you?” he asked as he pulled the car into a spot.

            “How the _fuck_ —are you fucking spying on me?” Tucker sounded more floored than accusatory, however.

            Washington had to laugh. “Tell you in a minute,” he said. “Why don’t I help out with Junior?”

            “And how do you know my kid’s name all of a sudden?” Tucker yelped. Wash got out of the car and started up the steps. “Hey, man, seriously—what gives?”

            Wash paused on the landing outside 117, laughing. “I met Junior a month or two ago. He’s come to visit a few times. Didn’t he tell you?”

            “Junior visits everyone in the apartment building!” Tucker protested, then paused thoughtfully. “Okay, I guess now that I say that it’s not so weird that you know him.” Pulling out his keys, he unlocked the door and gestured at Wash to follow him. “All right, where are you guys?” he shouted into the apartment.

            “Dad!” Junior barreled out of the back room, followed by Church, who had a dark five o’ clock shadow and was rubbing his eyes.

            “What the fuck are you two doing back here?” Church demanded.

            “Hi, Mr. Washington!” Junior chirped. “How’s Sunshine?”

            Tucker looked back and forth between the two of them. “What?”

            “Hey, Junior,” said Wash. “Sunny’s doing great. How are you?”

            Junior kicked at the floor. “I kind of threw up,” he said.

            “No, seriously!” Church put in. “I was handling it!”

            “You texted me that you weren’t gonna clean up vomit!” Tucker knelt on the ground and hugged Junior, putting the back of his hand to the child’s forehead. “Aw, buddy, I think you’ve got a fever.”

            “I was just complaining,” Church responded sulkily. “I do that. Haven’t you noticed?”

            “You texted me in the middle of a date!”

            “You and Mr. Wash are dating?” Junior put in excitedly. “Way to go, dad! Are you gonna get laid?”

            “Uh,” said Tucker, glancing back to Wash, but Wash was laughing too hard to respond. “I—don’t know, buddy. Hey, remember how you’re not supposed to say that in _front_ of my dates?”

            “Yeah, but you never dated someone I knew before!” Junior protested. “Can I see Sunshine, Mr. Wash?”

            Wash bent down. “If you’ve got a fever, you should probably be in bed,” he said mildly.

            “Aw,” said Junior. “But I feel okay…”

            “You’ve thrown up three times in the last hour, kiddo,” Church said in exasperation. “And every time you get out of bed, you—”

            Before he could finish the sentence, the expression on Junior’s face changed, and he swallowed, and then he threw up. White-and-red bile splattered across Tucker’s back, the floor, and Wash’s trousers. “Um…” said Junior weakly.

            “Okay, back to bed with you,” Tucker said firmly, rubbing the child’s back. “I’ll go pick up some Gatorade and shit. Church, can you watch him again?”

            “I had everything under control until you came back and got him out of bed!” Church said angrily. “Fuck you. Fuck both of you. Go off and fuck each other or something. I can handle this.”

            “Christ, Church, stop getting so defensive, we were trying to help. He’s _my_ kid.”

            “Yeah, yeah,” Church grumbled. “C’mon, kid.” He took Junior’s hand and led the child back toward the bedroom. Tucker wrinkled his nose. “Okay, this is disgusting,” he said. “I am so fucking sorry, man, this is the worst first date ever. Also, who the fuck is Sunshine?”

            Wash laughed. “Sunshine is my cat.” He put a hand on Tucker’s shoulder, carefully avoiding the vomit. “And actually I’m having a lot of fun. Maybe we should get these clothes off, though.”

            Tucker’s grin widened. “Bowchickabowow!”

            “I’d really like to not be wearing vomit anymore.”

            “Okay, okay.”

            “I can meet you down here or upstairs once we’ve changed. I live in 217.”

            Tucker rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. Sure. We can meet up at your place if you don’t mind doing a shopping run. I should pick up, like, Gatorade and kid Tylenol and stuff.”

            “Sounds like a date, then.” Wash found himself smiling as he turned toward the door. “Oh, and you can see my cat.”

            “Bowchickawowow! I didn’t know you were packing—”

            “I _meant_ my kitten. Feline. Pet. You know.”

            Tucker laughed and stuck out his tongue. “Sure, I’d love to come upstairs and see your feline pet.”

            He was definitely smiling as he turned toward the door. Sunshine was waiting, and Tucker was going to be coming up, and somehow, going to a grocery store to pick up medicine for a sick child was starting to sound more and more romantic.


End file.
